


A sea was storming inside of me

by cigarettesandalcohol



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Flashbacks, Grumpy Old Men, M/M, Sky Sports, but maybe softer than they know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25884658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cigarettesandalcohol/pseuds/cigarettesandalcohol
Summary: "Why don't you live the way you want then?""I can't start now.""Why not?""So I don't regret all those lost years."
Relationships: Roy Keane/Graeme Souness
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> \- Souness actually said that "Sexual Healing" by Marvin Gaye is his favorite song (lmao!), it's basically 1980's porn  
> \- he says "fabulous" a bit too much  
> \- in the 1970s and 1980s, he had the dress sense of a stereotypical gay caricature  
> \- I have my own theory that he is secretly gay but never dared to come out due to the homophobic dressing rooms, and that's the reason why he became so vocal of the support for LGBT+ people in football while he's kinda conservative in other things  
> \- also various people have said that he is actually a very gentle, "cuddly" man, soft and emotional, but he made his name by being absolutely ruthless and MACHO in his playing days - which I conclude might be the result of him trying to prove he's a "real man"  
> \- thanks for coming to my ted talk

"Have you seen the game last Sunday?"

Souness was confused. _The game_? Which one was _the_ game? He looked at Keane, trying to figure out which one would possibly be the one in his mind but Roy was quicker.

"Celtic-Rangers."

"Oh. No, I didn't have time - " Keane nodded, proceeding to collect his papers from the studio desk. "I've only seen the result. Not great."

"Well - "

It depends, of course, it _depends_. He tried to smile but Roy wasn't looking at him. How come they were still so awkward? He hoped that after the drink they went for after last Super Sunday, everything would be much easier for them in the studio. In reality, they were both still a bit awkward and too quiet in the dressing room and while waiting for the start of the program, while Neville was making everyone laugh with his stories and rips into Carra. 

"I think I'm gonna stop by in that fabulous restaurant where we went last time," he claimed, side-eyeing Neville. "Would you go with me?"

Roy stopped in his cleanup. "I already promised to - " He stopped himself before revealing too much of what he possibly considered to be personal. "Sorry, I can't tonight."

"That's fine. Maybe next time."

"Sure."

Graeme spent the rest of the day thinking. What was his motive? Why was it so hard to even say something like this to Roy, to ask for his company, to try and be friendly - and why was it even harder to be rejected?

"You look so worried, what is it about?" his wife asked, seeing his furrowed eyebrows and a frown that just wouldn't go away.

He shook his head, making the intrusive thoughts disappear. "Nah, just something at work."

"Was Pogba playing badly today?" she asked, a cheeky smile on her face.

" _Oh, Karen_." He had to laugh at that. Karen was amazing. Wonderful. Better than Danielle, his first wife. More...connected to his world, actually interested in his job.

She was a lovely woman after all. He knew it the day he met her. And she's been with him through the good and bad. She had to see him after the operation, sick and weak, and she was strong enough to go through his health problems with him. She just wasn't... He couldn't find the right word. She was perfect in every single aspect, she was well-educated and nice and good-looking - but she wasn't - 

\- _something more_?

What more did he want from her?

She was the best wife anyone could ask for. And it wasn't enough.

* * *

**Genoa, 1985**

_This was his only chance. He was still shit with his Italian but he soon found out the most useful words that helped him survive. Those were mostly the instructions, greetings, and loads of profanities. He even learned what certain ones meant. And he understood, from the exchange of looks and gestures, which one meant gay. Finding out when his teammates were joking about gay bars wasn't particularly difficult then. Culattone. Ricchione. Finocchio. He soon figured that out and laughed along, just like he used to in Britain._

_When he was entering one of those 'finocchio places' , he was trying to make himself believe he had no idea what these places were known for unofficially. He could always blame his presence on the lack of his knowledge of the language and culture had someone recognized him. On the other hand, he believed not many fags watched football. Right? He had nothing to be afraid of._

_The place looked like any other disco in the town and it made him relax a bit. There was a noticeable lack of women but he tried to ignore that, making up excuses for why he wouldn't notice that. He went to the bar to order something to drink. Then he ordered again. And again._

_He was already half-drunk when he arrived, he downed some whiskey at home and drove through the city to get here, just to have the guts. Two or three more drinks were enough for him to get comfortable in this new place. The bartender was watching him cautiously and he wanted to forget that. Was he wondering where he'd seen him already? Or was it just a friendly concern about his state? Souness didn't want to know._

_With a drink in his hand, he half walked and half danced across the room, stopping by the seats just to watch the people on the dancefloor._

_It went way too fast from that moment on. There was a man, or, maybe a boy, actually, a fairly young one, probably, although it might have been just the lack of facial hair - he walked up to him and asked him if he smoked, and then rolled his eyes and said something he couldn't understand, and then Souness had to admit he's not very good with his Italian yet - but willing to learn - and the guy just smiled and spoke English with the heaviest accent Souness has ever heard: 'Are you a tourist?'_

_He wasn't sure what to say because he couldn't read the clues, but he thought that posing as a tourist might seem like he just got lost and came into the bar by accident - so he denied it and said he's working there. He wasn't really lying, was he? They talked some more, mixing up English and Italian, and Souness ordered some more drinks for them, aking for the guy's name in the process. After a pause, he said Angelo, and it might have been just a fabulation at his part but he took it._

_They drank and drank again and half of their conversation was just laughing and trying to figure out the meaning of words but it felt right, it felt like something he was supposed to do his whole life, it felt much more real and stronger than his attempts to court Danielle._

_When the stupid horny song with English lyrics plays, he's hardly able to contain himself. He sees some of the guys slow-dancing together and Angelo's arm is wrapped around his back dangerously low._

_"I'll take you home," he says and he doesn't mean Angelo's home._

_His home at Genoa feels empty and lonely. He's alone. He's almost divorced. He's practically a single man. It wouldn't hurt anyone._

_"Your home?" Angelo asks, head seductively tilted back._

_His lips are exposed now, so is his neck, and Graeme takes advantage of that, kisses him, maybe too roughly, he's not used to kissing men, like this, and he just assumes this is what they like._

_"My home," he whispers and drags his hands down Angelo's back._

_He wants him so much and can't fully believe that this is happening because he's spent way too many lonely nights in Italy thinking about this moment._

_When they stumble out into the night, he feels even drunker than inside. The passion is eating him alive and he can't believe what is happening - the guy he's taking home - how good he is, how fucking great he feels - and he can't stop kissing him for dear life. There's nobody else on the street - he wouldn't dare otherwise - and he tries to drag the boy to his car._

_"No - no car - " the boy chokes out, pulling away. "You - drunk."_

_"What?"_

_"You - drunk - No drive!"_

_"What are you saying?" He tries to pull the boy closer again but he pushes him away, almost screaming now._

_"No drive!"_

_He can't risk a taxi driver. He can't - he can't explain to the guy who he really is - and he can't risk trying to catch a cab because it would definitely be someone who knows - No, he can't risk it all -_

_"It's not far," he tries, but Angelo shakes his head, avoiding any more kisses._

_"No, no drive - "_

_"I - I'll - I'll just drive us there - " he stutters, desperately holding onto his boy -_

_"No! A taxi!"_

_Maybe it's the sensible thing to do. He would understand that. Of course, the boy doesn't want to go into a car with a stranger - well, almost a stranger - of course, that's only right and reasonable - But he can't do it._

_"No - I have my car - in here - "_

_"No, no. Good night."_

_He watched the boy slip out of his grasp and run back, looking over his shoulder once, almost stumbling on the curb - was he such a criminal for wanting to drive the car? Was it so wrong? He couldn't tell. Angelo disappeared in the night just as smoothly as he came out of it in the club. And it was gone, the momentum was gone._

_He wanked off in the car instead; his blood still rushing from the arousal combined with the utter disgust and anxiety over his feelings and the fear of what might get found out by the press and what the lads in the dressing room would say._

_Then he threw up, opening the car window just in time._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- there was a scandal at Rangers about the coach called Gordon Neely; he reportedly tried to sexually abuse some youth players; when this got to Souness, he sacked Neely on the spot  
> \- "Choose life" is basically a reference to the movie "Trainspotting"

He's so much older than Roy anyway. He doesn't usually think about that - not in the studio, at work, anyway - but when he lets his thought get too far, he always comes back to the fact that he was ruining his managerial career in Liverpool around the same time that Roy arrived at Manchester. He doesn't think about Neville or Carragher in the same way - he couldn't care less about Gary's whole Class of '92 and with Carra, it's just a bit different since he was a Liverpool player as well - but looking at Roy, he can't help it. He's so much older and although it doesn't feel like it - his mind tells him so, and it's a fact. Roy was only learning his trade at United at the time he was almost dying - and it's a horrible image. Kenny was in Blackburn back then - he was trying to tap Roy up - and now they're in the same studio, analyzing games, talking about the _Old Firm_.

He can't help it though. 

Roy looks so good in his grey suit and he's trying to remember when he first noticed him - it must have been in the mid-'90s but he can't really remember, he never thought about him much; he was just a player - but now he's here and he's wearing a well-fitted suit and makes great jokes, makes him laugh and makes him feel welcomed.

There's something about the studio that makes him anxious sometimes, although he wouldn't admit it - sometimes he feels like there's an agenda against him, that some people want him gone, that the whole concept is being changed too much - maybe to get him out, he's not sure. The world of TV punditry is changing and evolving, too fast for him. After all, he's an old man.

"How about we go for a drink today?"

Roy's question hurts him deeply. Any other day it would be fine - but tonight it's Karen's birthday. It's bad enough he's had to work (he wanted to; he only told her that it wasn't his choice), but promised to come back home for a late dinner with her, and a weekend away from the city in the next few days - the whole situation was a mess. Keane wasn't supposed to be on the panel. If he had known Roy would be there, he wouldn't have promised _anything_ to Karen - but now he had his promises made -

"I'm staying in Manchester tonight," Roy explained, and it was too much information at once for Graeme. He just nodded, trying to make up his mind. A boring birthday celebration? He'd pass on that happily. A drink with Roy? That was something he wasn't going to get every day.

"I can go - for _one small glass_." He tried to gesture the size of the imagined _small glass_.

And one small glass it is indeed. He wouldn't dare to take in more alcohol around Keane anyway. He knows himself, and he knows his inclinations. He wouldn't want to inflict that on Keane, definitely not in a hazed state.

It's still crazy to think about the old times. He knows that Keane was known for his alcohol-fueled outbursts, and he himself wasn't much better in the seventies and eighties. He wouldn't even be able to count the number of times he couldn't remember how he got back to the hotel - and he'd slept in his car on more than two occasions. Sometimes, he wouldn't sleep at all.

But now, he ordered a glass of wine and knew that it had to be it. Roy ordered the same now, and they sat at the table like two old friends, sipping wine and quietly revisiting in their minds the times they were downing champagne and vodka straight from bottles after victorious nights.

"It's nice to sit down like this - " It was a lame start of any debate but Souness couldn't help it. He had to let Roy know. This was the highlight of his day, hell, it was probably the highlight of his whole week or month. "I'm really getting old. I need those quiet days now - Or just quiet moments alone, after a day at work."

Roy nodded, smirking.

 _He understands me,_ Souness thought. _We aren't even good friends - and he understands what I mean without saying too much_. 

That was why he was so thankful for his signing - there were way too many people trying to fit into the new line - trying to appear new and fresh and promising .- - but Graeme knew this trend would sooner or later lead to him being laid off. He felt like his working days on the TV were numbered. Old guys like him weren't wanted anymore.

He didn't dare to talk about those fears to Roy, it would feel like a waste of time. He wanted to talk about more personal issues with him. Maybe not even issues - just something personal, something that felt like Roy - 

"I appreciate it."

There was something inexplicably magnetic about Roy, after all. He didn't really talk about him much; definitely not as much as the other pundits; he always gave off the feeling of a very private, shy person when outside of the reach of cameras. And he was surprisingly polite. He never managed to see through the stern eyes and cold expression before he started working with him. 

They talked about the work they've done at the studio, made fun of the other guys, of Gary's high pitched voice when he was arguing, of David's vain attempts of being neutral, and of Patrice's laid back nature, then they talked about their families, their kids, the way they see them, the way their experience of them is different from what the people watching Sky Sports see every week, and there was so much mutual understanding that Souness had to hold back the words 'We are of the same kind' after every point they agreed upon.

He had to control his feelings. They were indeed so much alike.

He had to control himself, pay attention, and not let it slip - and not ask _'Do you feel the same?'_

* * *

_It was different when he came back to Scotland to manage Rangers. Playing for Sampdoria and living alone in Genoa was different, the atmosphere of the city was different, he felt almost free and unbothered by the ties of his personal life there. Back in Scotland, things were different. It was the blessing and curse of being Scottish, and he both loved and hated living in his homeland._

_Abroad, he might have felt out of place and unwelcomed at times, but back at home, everyone knew who he was. There were never people lining up for his autograph when he went out - but he just felt exposed in the public in ways he didn't even know before. In both cities, Glasgow and Edinburgh, actually, the feeling was similar, and it never bothered him, at least not until Danielle asked for a divorce. He used to have his life perfectly laid in front of him; career, house, wife and kids to come home too, and when this all disappeared after the divorce process, he was back in a morbid circle of undisclosed desires, fear and denial._

_He once went to an adult movie arcade but the_ _stress wasn't worth it. He went in there drunk - to not feel the shame - and came out just as tense and fearful of being recognized._ _The fear wasn't worth it. He knew he could never find anyone to be with him this way - and if he wanted a quick release, he could always just watch some videos at home alone. He met a nice girl at one of the club's reception, she had something to do with the journalists there, and she was charming, knowledgable, and friendly, her name was Karen and she wasn't afraid to make jokes about him, his hairstyle and mustache, and about the way he played, she seemed to see right through him and he didn't see a single reason why he shouldn't ask her for a number and ask her out._

_It was comfortable having a girlfriend; and convenient._

_It was just the right thing to do._

_Especially after the Gordon fucking Neely scandal. It made his stomach turn, and he knew what the people from the club were whispering behind the scenes - 'This is what happens when you let faggots near kids' - he sacked Neely on the spot, as soon as he heard the poor boy's confession, and he was disgusted by ever working with Neely in the first place, although, who could have known?_

_'These fucking faggots, they're everywhere now -" That was the main outcome of the whole situation; unofficial, of course, because nobody was allowed to comment on Neely's dismissal in the public._

* * *

He never stopped imagining what his life could have been like if he didn't rush into the second marriage. His declining health and troubles at work might have worked as factors for desperately trying to keep Karen near; she was there when he needed her in times of distress, and she was also there when he was taken to hospital for his operation. He wouldn't want to go there without anyone to live for - and she was also there for the infamous photo for _The Sun_. They were meant to be. 

Sometimes, he still dreamed of having a different life. Sometimes, he tried to imagine himself with someone else - with a guy - a guy his age, maybe slightly younger, someone who would be loyal and loving, who would love the game of football as he did, someone who would accompany him during the long work trips. Was it too much to ask for?

Roy Keane's contract was sent from heaven. It was a sign.

_Choose life._

_Choose a different kind of life._


End file.
